


Boyle Heights Street Fight

by orphan_account



Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Big Ryck pulls off one dodge and all the good intentions in the world go out the fucking window.





	Boyle Heights Street Fight

Puma is silent. A patter of footsteps echo through the concrete hallways as the last of the patrons trickle out of the dirty building. In the far distance, the sound of car doors slamming cuts through the hush of the late night air. In the dingy locker room a single shower head runs, the jets of water spraying out at odd angles from a calcium choked nozzle. Johnny can’t remember who the straggler is. Does it matter? Under thick layers of polyurethane, the swelling of his face is evident. There’s blood in Puma’s mouth. Sitting on a grainy wooden bench in the dim light, he looks small. How old is this kid? Johnny never thought to ask.

_He didn’t mean to._

The thought repeats itself in his mind. Big Ryck pulls off one dodge and all the good intentions in the world go out the fucking window. He cost the kid so fucking much. Was he pissed? Fuck, who knew. It was hard to tell past the concussion. Puma probably didn’t know where he was right now. He hadn’t moved since Konnan had marched him back here and sat him down; staring past his own hands as they hung limply between his knees with glazed eyes. He was breathing hard. So was Johnny. Neither of them had gotten changed. They’d be here past two at this rate. Where the fuck was Konnan? Shouldn’t he be taking care of his protege? Johnny took a knee, and he rested there, seated between Prince Puma’s boots.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a quiet earnestness that he didn’t typically afford people. He had _meant_ well. You know what they say about the road to hell, and all that? He’d done plenty enough to send him to hell already, not that he cared much about any of it. Live fast, die young, and do anything to feel alive. Fighting made him feel alive. _Fighting Puma had made him feel alive._ The kid cocked his head at the man between his knees, eyes lidded. He didn’t speak. Johnny couldn’t tell if it was a matter of choice, or inability. He’d gotten checked after the fight, but the bargain bin medics they sussed out for this trash heap of a production didn’t know their asses from a hole in the ground.

Johnny reaches up with both hands. The motions are slow; after the fuckbotch in the ring, he can’t afford to seem agressive. Placing a firm palm on either side of Puma’s neck, he cradles the younger man’s jaw with the heels of his thumbs. The contact makes him feel electric, in ways he’d be ashamed to describe. Puma doesn’t shove him off and for one desperate fucking moment he wants to see how far he could go, but the sound of the water running in the shower reminds him that this isn’t a safe place to explore those urges. He lets his thumb wander, tracing it across the bloodstained lips of the prince of the temple. _God, it feels good._

“I fucked up,” he says, in a plaintive tone. Things are snowballing now. He clenches his jaw to remind himself that he isn’t a little bitch here to prostrate himself before some kid. Next week, Prince Puma is going to hit him, and he’s going to deserve it. It won’t stop him from fighting back, however; one can never afford to show weakness in the ring.

The shower shuts off. Johnny pulls away. He stands. Puma looks up at him, with wide eyes that don’t seem to understand. Something inside of Johnny hurts. _I’m sorry_ , he mouths again. Puma simply shakes his head.

_The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley._

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **I regret nothing.**   
> 


End file.
